Hunt
by sylverskyz
Summary: Little is less thrilling than watching one’s prey from a strategic point. They can’t see you, but you know every little action they make. Light CidVincent


A little oneshot piece to get back into the swing of writing. If you can guess what comic had a part in inspiring this piece, you are awesome, and I will publically announce it (aka, tell everyone on XD).

Yes, VincentCid is one of my guilty pleasures. I'll get back into the real writing soon, hopefully. Certain fics need updating. Desperately.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Square.

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Little is less thrilling than watching one's prey from a strategic point. They can't see you, but you know every little action they make. The longer you watch, the less patient you grow. Your muscles twitch and tingle in the desire to make that deadly, sudden movement that will put an end to the wait, and reward you with the unmistakeable joy of victory. If you possess the right skill, your patience will without a doubt be rewarded.

My prey, as they all are, goes about his business completely unaware of the one watching him. Pressed against the side of the house, taking advantage of the darkening shadows of dusk, I can only shiver in anticipation. Soon I will strike, and he will be completely unaware until it is too late. He collects some tools and moves along, going around the corner to put them away in the shed. I do not move, knowing he will return. I wait, and wait... _and wait._

Aha! He returns, this time to check his handiwork one more time. That busted up old thing is his pride and joy, why he bothers with it is none of my concern. Covered in oil and grime, my prey looks so dedicated to his project, even when he spits a curse at it when he stubs his toe on the clunky piece of junk. Silently, I allow myself to snicker. What a fool he is.

Seemingly over his fit and satisfied with his work for the day, he peels off his gloves and sets them on the nearby workbench. I watch as he sighs and lights up a cigarette for himself. Pocketing the pack and lighter, he looks up at the orange and pink sky, which is slowly fading to black. The subtle scents of dinner being cooked inside drift about, a light chill hangs in the evening air, and I know it gives him a comfortingly familiar feeling. Yes, enjoy it while you can.

After several minutes, through which I remain stock still, my prey starts walking again, this time towards the door into the house I am lurking by. I decide to move as well, slinking along low to the ground. I use the wood pile to help give me cover, while I continue to watch him. So helpless, so unaware... I almost pity my prey. A devilish smirk tugs at my lips, and I slip very carefully around the woodpile, thankful that the darkness has increased with the dipping sun.

All of a sudden, he freezes, and as do I. Does he see me? My prey stands still, a few feet from the screen door, and gazes about and listens like a buck on the meadow. So powerful and strong, but at the same time vulnerable and cautious. I hold my breath, and do not move a muscle. Before long he relaxes, possibly dismissing his senses for playing tricks on him. Silly buck. That is how your head gets mounted on the wall. This time with strenuous care, I get into the right position. Not unlike the Cheshire Cat, I begin to wear a wide grin. _You're mine._

Without wasting another second, I pounce. My prey never sees it coming, the sudden and lightning fast blur of red that takes him right off his feet. The cigarette falls from his mouth and is gone, never to be seen again. He hits the ground with a loud 'oof!', and I pin him down before he knows what hit him. But he does not need to even see my face to figure out what just happened. He squirms under me and curses, but I swoop down for the finishing blow. As our lips press against each other roughly, he seems calm, if only for a moment. His head soon turns away from me.

"Vince, you sonofabitch!" he growls at me. "Let me up!" I let out a dark chuckle and keep my head low.

"No." I purr in response. Oh, how easily amused I can be. I blame him for it, actually. He looks at me again, subtle affection in his deep blue eyes alongside his annoyance. We smirk at each other for a moment before he wordlessly reminds me that his muscle mass outweighs mine and easily but carefully shoves me off of him. As we get to our feet, he reaches over and yanks my cloth headband down over my eyes when I least expect it. Damn. A predator can never let his guard down. As I fumble with my hair and temporary blindfold, I can hear the pilot grumbling as he goes through the door.

"_Every_ goddamn day..."


End file.
